Scars of Gold
by Innalynx
Summary: A situation goes wrong and Andrea pays the price for it. Of course, her two lovers think the opposite of what she does.


**Boy this really has been a while! I've been working on this for a while and hopefully this is good! Also yes, Andrea is in a polyamorous relationship. Fight me I just can't choose between Mute or Sledge F. Also I'm not a doctor so if something is wrong, do tell me!**

**Word Count: 10176**

**Pairing: Sledge/Lynx(OC)/Mute**

* * *

It hadn't been until recently that Romania had allowed for their special forces to group with team Rainbow. With White Mask attacks being at an all time high around the world, they had seen no reason to lend some of their elite marksmen to some organization. Until now, when things were calmer, more manageable.

It had been almost a year since two members of the SIAS had joined Rainbow. Their personalities were almost complete opposites, yet, as they said, they were attached at the hip.

Andrea 'Lynx' Christoff and Sergei 'Iron Bull' Ralu. A medic and a therapist- just what Rainbow needed. Though recently their dorms had experienced a form of 'team exercise' ; forcing the two to shelter in the bunks of other units. Sergei had gone to bunk with a friend he had made, Gilles. The mountain of a man was a gentle giant- Sergei possibly had a crush on him, as Andrea liked to tease.

Meanwhile the woman had no other choice but to bunk with the unit closest to her dorms; the SAS. She held a neutral attitude to them; most of the time the boys wouldn't bother her and would only really strike conversation because of James, seeing as he was the most nosy. 'For blackmail,' he had once told Seamus, 'she could try to kill us.' Odd, how the most unpredictable man thought a medic would kill people faster than he would.

However scarce may be the moments where the Romanian would come out of her office; all creatures needed social interaction. She was no different. It got… lonely, sometimes. Without her old squadron bothering her to death and duct-aping her bag to the ceiling, how else was she going to get entertainment? Newspaper could only do so much.

Thus, she found herself at the bar in the lounge. It wasn't often she would be driven to alcohol- but, alas, cigarettes and drugs could only do so much. She was alone- most were either too wary of her to strike up conversation or simply didn't trust her enough to approach. She did pull a pistol on Marius once for coming in her office with a mere cut on his arm. She hadn't shot him, but did give him the scare of his life.

Andrea's dull eyes gazed down at the opaque brown liquid in the glass, her natural expression never changing. She was thinking- deep where she dreaded to go, bringing back thoughts she had never wanted to think of. Idly, she sipped at the whiskey, the small ice cubes clinking against the glass cup, breaking the silence if only for a short second. Lowering the drink from her lips and setting it back down on the wooden counter, Andrea sighed. If only she had Sergei talking to her right now- he'd probably be telling some story about his time as a therapist.

Once more, she lifted the glass up to her lips and drank the rest of the liquid, emptying the glass swiftly. She still could feel her thoughts creeping up on her. So, another shot she poured herself, the bottle now almost halfway gone.

A noise caught her attention. Footsteps, almost completely silent had she not been trained to hear subtle sounds. Instinctively, the Romanian looked over her shoulder and saw the youngest member of the SAS approach her. Mark R. Chandar- mostly known as Mute since he seems to never talk outside of situations. Even in situations he rarely talked, only doing so to state something to his team.

Andrea waved a hand at him as he sat down on the stool next to her. Though she wouldn't admit it, the Brit intrigued her. Always communicating in sign language, always looking calm yet being the most protected in his unit. Never seeming to falter his analytics. He truly was the prodigy his file called him out to be.

Speaking of Mark, he waved at her in return and gestured to the bottle of whiskey.

"Knock yourself out." She shrugged, back to her own glass, her own thoughts. She didn't even notice the man get up to walk behind the bar and get himself a glass.

No, she thought purely about the mission that had gone South of what was planned. What had supposed to been a simple bio hazard defusing had almost turned into a full on bloodbath on both sides of the fight.

Her team had barely made it out alive. Had it not been for her skills in field medicine, she was sure they would have all been dead. Monika sported a fractured arm, Elizabeth was in Gustave's care after a bullet to the side, Seamus was dealing with cracked ribs and Emmanuelle had shrapnel wounds from a frag grenade. Andrea? An agonizing hip and a bullet to the shoulder. Nothing compared to the pain of her team. Luckily they had managed to secure and defuse the container before anyone could actually die though the guilt of having missed her enemy sweep was ever so present. Strong enough that not even her marijuana could help her take her mind off of it.

They should have been safe- she should have been the one in emergency care, not Eliza. The Romanian sighed deeply at her thoughts and brought the glass to her lips one last time, tilting her head back to drink the alcohol all in one go. A terrible idea, really. This time, she slammed the empty glass back down on the wood counter and reached up to rub at her eyes with her palm. Ugh. She felt so tired already.

A small tap on her shoulder brought her attention back to the Brit who had returned back to his spot besides her. Despite remaining silent in even the toughest of situations, she could still read the concern he felt for her.

The man pointed at her then held his right hand out flat open, his other hand also flat open on top of his right, hitting the palm gently.

_'Are you okay?'_

'Course he had heard of what happened- it was a miracle if no one had. Mark was glad to have gotten to Andrea before Mike did. Old bastard would be yelling at the woman, demanding her to tell him who gave her the rights to let Seamus get wounded under her leadership. Baker always did view of the SAS unit as his boys, after all.

Andrea huffed and looked back down at the empty glass, now somewhat stained with the last drops of whiskey,

"I've been better." She answered flatly, sliding the empty glass next to the bottle of whiskey and sighing deeply through her nose. Her brows were furrowed, her head concentrated on trying to distract itself from many different things at once. It clearly wasn't working, Mark noticed, her right foot was shaking and she was tapping her fingers against the counter. She was hurting; physically and mentally.

Had James been here, Mark was sure that the Brit would have mocked her to the point of earning another broken nose. Seamus had probably already forgiven Andrea- she was the medic, after all, she knew more than he did. Plus, he was bedridden until the worst of his ribs went away- around a week or two.

Really, the only thing the operator could do was scoot closer to her and wrap and set a hand on her shoulder in comfort. That, and he also deemed that he would rather have her sober than drunk, if only because he feared how she would be when intoxicated.

Andrea rose a brow and looked over at him with a questioning look, yet didn't protest against the action. It wasn't Sergei holding her and rocking her back into the real world after a night terror, but it was a gesture she appreciated none the less.

"Thanks." Was all she said, letting the silence bask them once again. It was thick, almost like it could be cut through with a knife- but it was welcome. Neither of them were very talkative, she supposed. Mark never talked and she never wanted conversations to last longer than they should.

In the silence of the room they sat, drinking and not saying a word other than a few quick glances.

Sharing the building with the Americans was truly an experience, though.

Jordan was the first to barge in, in his usual outspoken self- Miles and Jack not too far behind him. The only American missing was Eliza. Andrea turned her head away from them, guilt once more taking her away from a peaceful mindset.

It was a solemn day for the affected units. She was sure Monika was being pampered by the Germans in their own dorms.

"Hey~" came the sing song voice from Jordan, who plopped down on a stool next to the Romanian, "There's the dream girl! Holding up alright?"

No answer.

"Tough crowd today, huh." He mumbled to himself, furrowing his brows. The FBI SWAT team had also been shaken by the information given to them about Eliza's condition. Who thought that the most careful person in the team ended up with the worst wound? Jordan turned to face the bar and reached to the back of his neck, scratching the area awkwardly whilst he watched Jack take place behind the bar. Mark gazed over at Andrea again, now more concerned. There was a hint of pity in his eyes; she was suffering. This time, more physically than mentally. Curtly, (and rather rudely, as Jordan had once commented) the Brit stood up and left the bar, walking out of the room in a brisk pace. This left her alone with the Americans.

Great.

The SIAS operator reached into her pocket and took out her phone, unlocking it and beginning to browse whatever sites she usually looked at. Jack (commonly known as 'Pulse') took this as a liberty to speak.

"Any news on Eliza?" He asked while pouring Jordan and Miles their drinks, gazing up at Andrea with an expectant glint in his eyes. Said woman sighed and rubbed her eyes once more, forcing the answer out,

"Her condition is stable but she still lost a lot of blood. We aren't allowing any visitors until we deem her okay. We're looking at about two weeks from now." She answered, Jordan's hiss almost making her leave in itself.

"Doesn't sound to stable to me."

"Then I will gladly give my job to you, Trace." The snap was almost instant, silencing the Texan instantly. At least, until he whistled and turned his attention back to his teammates. Definitely a tough crowd today.

"I'm sure no one's holding their knives at your throat, Christoff." Spoke Jack, now leaning on the counter with a bottle of beer in hand. Heineken. Gross.

"Not at the moment."

"The operation was a success- we all know what we sign up for when we joined our units. Be glad no one actually died." He said in hopes of comforting her. His only answer was a scoff from the woman. His other answer was her getting up and leaving the bar without a word, moving to sit on one of the beanbags at the other side of the room, secluded from the others. This time, Jordan held himself from commenting on it.

The door to the common room opened yet again with Mark having returned from wherever he went. This time, he held a bottle of water in hand and a pill in the other. His eyes briefly scanned the room for the Romanian after noticing she was no longer at the bar. Spotting her in the beanbag area, the Brit walked over to her in a more relaxed pace than before, moving one of the beanbags with his foot to be closer in front of her. Andrea looked up from her phone at him in confusion. That is, until he sat down in front of her and offered her the pill and bottle.

Ah. Her meds. She forgot about those. No wonder her hip felt like it was exploding. With a curt thanking, Andrea took the pill and water bottle from him, popping the pill in her mouth and washing it down with water, to which she closed the bottle afterwards and set it down next to her. Andrea gave him a nod to signal her gratitude and leaned back into the beanbag, taking out her phone. After that, she spent the rest of the hour browsing her phone- going from texting her sister to browsing sites so she could buy more components to her sonar captor device.

Mark, also deeming the worst of the current situation dealt with, made himself comfortable on his own beanbag and crossed his legs; also taking out his phone to browse what he usually looked at.

The next hour was relatively silent aside from the chatting at the bar, to which Andrea kept a close ear to. Who knew that the Americans had some of the best gossip in all of Rainbow? She did now. Then again, she knew most, if not everything about all the other operators and people on base. Such was her job as a medic, after all. Having info about everyone was essential to her job, as Gustave had once told her.

The Romanian kept her eyes mostly glued to the screen of her device, occasionally glancing up whenever a loud sound erupted from anywhere within the common room. Nothing too bad, she deducted, only the Americans sharing a few jokes to try and lighten up their moods with Eliza being in emergency care. It must be hard to know that a close friend of theirs was gravely wounded and it was nothing they could do. Was this how Sergei had felt after finding Andrea out in Afghanistan, her hip blown to shreds and pissing blood? Maybe. Maybe not. Who was she to care?

Yet again she was snapped out of her thoughts with an oh so familiar voice calling her out.

"Oye! Where's that hag?" Ah, James. His insults could only ever mean affection, she had found out. The woman sighed and rolled her eyes; way to go, life. You've ruined another good moment of hers.

Speaking of the devil, here he comes now, having spotted her seconds after entering the room. What she had expected, however, turned out to not happen. James Porter, the man as unpredictable as time itself, let himself drop down comfortably on the beanbag next to Mark and kicked off his army grades boots to free his feet from the warm.

Gross, but typical.

Almost as if on cue, his loud voice tore through the silence like a starving lion,

"I'll give ya this, Christoff, you've managed ta piss off Mike like I've never seen 'im before." He mused, crossing his arms behind his head as he let out a relaxed, barely interested sigh. Andrea grunted and rolled her eyes,

"I can hear him yelling from a mile away, Porter." A snort emitted from the Brit,

"Aye. Ya really knocked 'im off 'is knickers with that stunt ya pulled."

"Don't. Remind me about it." Andrea hid her face in her hands and sighed deeply, yet again rubbing at her tired eyes. A tick she had developed over the years, she only did it when stressed. Very much like now. Though James' silence threw her off. She knew exactly what he had done to garner such a relaxed and not so bothered attitude.

"You told him where I was."

"Yep." Oh this was just great. She was about to have her ears pulled out because of the rotten snitch she called a colleague. This was absolutely how she wanted to calm down after a mission gone South.

Mark furrowed his brows and looked up from the screen of his phone, glancing between James and Andrea with worry. He knew how angry Mike actually was about that the mission had gone so sour- poor bastard had left the punching bag in the gym to bits and pieces. Last time Mark had seen him, the man was ranting about what he would do to Andrea if she 'showed her bloody fucking face' around him ever again.

Alas, her work morals didn't allow her to skip patients because of threats and Seamus was in need of a checkup. From an actual doctor and not an old man who hates laser sights. Andrea stood up with a wince and stretched her muscles, stuffing her phone back in her pocket.

"Great." She mumbled a few incoherent words in Romanian and limped away as she would do. Her hip would only let her walk so much without limping. James craned his neck to watch her leave the room, an oh so satisfied smile on his face. With a chuckle, he made himself nice and comfortable on the beanbag and swung his legs on the bag Andrea had once been on. Only when he felt eyes stare into his soul did he dare to look at Mark; who looked none too pleased about him.

"The fuck are ya glarin' at me for? She's the one who fucked up 'Mus' ribs!" This time Mark only rolled his eyes and stood up to follow after the woman, his pace fast in order to catch up.

"You're not actually ditchin' me for a fuckin- MARK!" Ah, he knew James was the most social out of all the SAS unit. If there was no one to bother then he would no doubt find some poor recruits to almost smoke to death with his 'toxic babes'. Porter was quick to leave his oh so comfortable spot to join up with the younger man, punching him in the shoulder as he did so.

"Ya fuckin' wanker. If Mike snaps on us yer fuckin' as good as dead, mate." He growled, only earning a huff from his teammate. As they caught up with the Romanian, Mark reached over and set a hand on her shoulder, if only to let her know that she had his support in case Mike really did try to kill her. Andrea glanced over her shoulder briefly and blinked, turning her eyes back to the hallway in front of her. Her office (temporary) was a few feet away and the three reached it in a matter of seconds.

"You two stay outside." As James was about to protest, the scent of some strong marijuana hit both men directly in the nose, causing them both to cover their noses. Mark's eyes watered due to the chemicals so he made quick work to try and rub the tears away.

"Jesus Christ that's some strong shit." Said James, looking away to try and suck in a breath of fresh air. He definitely knew who his new drug dealer was going to be.

Now that she was alone, Andrea sighed deeply to allow her mind to clear up before she'd walk in the middle of the storm. Still, it wasn't like she could avoid Mike any longer. Sure she could sleep in her office chair, but she still needed to keep Seamus in top condition to make sure he healed effectively and quickly. The Romanian reached over to the coat rack and grabbed her white coat from the rack, sliding it on with ease. She was glad to be wearing her typical gray t-shirt and camo pants. No need to change clothing. Before she walked over to her desk, however, she made her way over to the window and opened it wide to clear out the drug smelling air of the office. She'd need to disinfect everything the moment the Scotsman's checkup was done. Now standing next to her desk, the Romanian reached up and untied her auburn hair from the tight bun, tilting her head back to redo the bun more securely.

Now that she looked at her desk more closely, she saw something on her desk. A letter. Most likely from Six or her sister; Laura always did write at the most inconvenient times, she thought as she flipped the letter over to determine who it was from. Ah, Laura. She'll have to read it later when she had time. Andrea tore open the envelope and tossed it aside while briefly running her eyes over the words of the letter, she huffed and set the paper back on her desk for later, grabbing her stethoscope from the corner of her desk before she made her way out of her office and closed the door with her right hand. Surprisingly, Mark was still there. James, however, had most likely left to either go back to the common room or to the examination to get ready for the show that was about to happen.

"Good to know you're on my side, Chandar." She commented, motioning for him to follow her. He was apart of the SAS, he had every right to be there for Seamus' checkup. Be it by luck or misfortune , the examination room nearest to her was only two doors away. Now in front of the door to the room, she took in a deep breath and turned the doorknob and opened the door, letting Mark enter first and closed the door behind her before speaking,

"Alright. Before we get to the results I-" before she could finish, a force slammed into her she felt herself get lifted up a few centimeters off the ground by the collar of her shirt with a voice booming in her disoriented ears.

"Who the bloody Hell do ya think you are?" Mike growled, keeping Andrea pinned to the door. Unfortunately for him, her experience in situations like these had trained her well.

"Giving your teammate a checkup-"

"After lettin' 'im fuckin' snap his ribs in half? You better have a good fuckin' excuse before I rip yer fuckin' throat out." Again, more threats he wouldn't be able to keep.

"Mister Baker, I don't have time for your aggression. Unhand me this instance or I will be forced to-"

"I'm waiting, Christoff." Damn him for being her superior. The Romanian glared at him and grasped his wrists tightly in an attempt to let him go. No use, he had an iron grip on her. Soon enough, the both of them had entered a pretty heated argument with Mark trying his hardest to actually separate them. Seamus, hunched over, looked over at James with pain in his eyes.

"Not gonnae stop 'em?" James pursed his lips and shook his head, looking more than entertained.

"Nah. This is gettin' good." He spoke lowly, his eyes never leaving the chaos in front of him that he, for once, hadn't started.

"OI! Leave the poor lass alone! Was'n'ike she could've seen what'dve fuckin' happen'!"

Finally, after what seemed to be forever, Mike let go of the medic after some thorough coaxing from the mute and the Scot's words. Mike's glare never left Andrea, even as she walked to approach their injured teammate. Mike always did treat the SAS as his boys, as funny as he tried to deny the fact.

"Yer on thin fuckin' ice, Christoff." Andrea looked over at Seamus with a cringe and rolled her shoulder, hoping that her wound hadn't been irritated.

"That bad, huh?" No answer. Once a few short seconds passed, she spoke up again,

"As I was saying, Specialist Cowden I'll need to test a few things before going over the results with you." She explained, walking over to the counter running the water.

First, she washed her hands in the sink for extra measures. Despite not being too keen on her job, she was going to do it right. All the while she was drying her hands and putting on the medical gloves, she spoke up.

"Has anything felt out of place or have you been feeling any effects from the ribs?" She asked, now standing in front of Seamus.

"James Porter please get off of the examination table so I can proceed with the checkup." As expected, he merely leaned back.

"Porter." A few more seconds of a strong glare made James scoff and slid off the table. The woman made no motion to thank him, turning her attention back to Seamus.

"I'll keep it brief this time. Have you felt anything else other than pain? Nausea, headaches?" She asked, glancing up at him while setting a hand on the back of his shoulder to keep his back straight all the while applying pressure to his chest.

Oh, Seamus was in absolute agony. He practically forced himself to talk.

"Naye. Just some- FUCKIN'-" he took a deep breath, "- agony when I breathe." His accent got thicker, she noticed, as a response to big amounts of pain. Mike, though he wanted to act, knew better than to disturb a doctor from their work. Andrea gave a nod, pressing her index and middle finger to a more specific area right below his rib cage. Another hiss of pain. Most likely some bruising of something of the sort.

"Alright, lift up your shirt, Cowden. One of your teammates may help you if you find it too painful." She informed him, helping him lift up his shirt over his chest. Had she not seen worse, she would have winced at the bruising seen on his chest. It would take a long while to recover. Mike now jumped in to help, telling Seamus that he'd keep the shirt up for him. Once Andrea got her hands to the bruised flesh, the boys let the shirt fall back down to hide her gloved hands.

Blocking out the rest of the conversation between Mike, James and Mark, Andrea once again instructed the Scotsman what to do,

"Alright, I need you to take deep and calm breaths as best as you can." She said as she took the stethoscope from around her neck to put the ear tips in her ears. Once the ear tips were adjusted and the diaphragm was set to go, Andrea pressed the cold metal against his bruised skin, earning a hiss of both pain and discomfort. Looking over at Mike briefly, she gave him a nod and let him lower the shirt back down.

"Deep breaths, Cowden." She was glad the man followed her instructions as best as he could. His breathing was limited, almost like it was blocked by his reflex. Wheezing and wincing, he would be needing more than just six weeks to fully heal.

What made her frown was the slight vibration when he breathed. That was concerning. Moving the diaphragm up his other pectoral, she spoke up,

"Deep breaths, Specialist Cowden." His chest rattled with painful laughter.

"I'm tryin'." The Romanian only hummed and went back to her silent self, listening more closely. The rattling consisted here too. Definitely concerning. Now, she moved to his back to give him as much relief from the pain as possible. She did the same thing she had done to his chest, listening carefully (probably taking much more time than needed) in order to make a proper diagnosis. After a moment, she stood straight again and took the ear tips out of her ears, sliding the chest piece out of his shirt and setting the stethoscope back around her shoulders.

"So, your problems breathing indicate that you're in great deals of pain- obviously. There was some rattling in your chest and it may be something like a developing cold though you'll need to go to Doctor Kateb to get it confirmed." She paused, making sure he was listening to all of the information. All four of them were.

"Otherwise I'll give you some Acetaminophen to lessen the pain for a few hours. You'll need to go to Kateb again since until I can go back to my building, I won't have the medicine needed."

"How long 'til 'es back on the field?" Andrea hummed, furrowing her brows as she examined the group more closely.

"Judging by the severity of the ribs, I'm estimating between six to eight weeks before he'll have healed enough to ease back into training. That is, if he doesn't go against my instructions and trains while he's still wounded." Mark visibly winced at that, feeling a pang of pity in his heart for the breacher. Six to eight weeks of nothing but rest and pain. It absolutely would not be a good time for Seamus, he could tell.

"The Acetaminophen should help cope with the pain, though doing any physical activity will make it worse. Your best bet is to spend the first week or so in bed to give time for the bruises to start fading away and for the tears in the thorax to begin healing. Keep movement at a minimum and everything should go as planned." She explained, crossing her arms. Fuck, how she wished she had a cane. Seamus felt the need to speak up this time;

"So ye wan'me ta stae in me bed fer weeks wi' nuthin ta do?" He asked, back in his hunched over position. Fuck, everything hurt. Andrea nodded,

"I don't want you to. You have to if you want a swift recovery. I'll need one of your colleagues to deliver you meals every day and you can only get up to go to the bathroom or to go visit Doctor Kateb for the info and prescription." Tensions were still high in the room, making her feel somewhat awkward for not being able to do more to help, what with the limited equipment she had here. This wasn't a hospital, this was just as close as they could get to a hospital inside a building. No one there were only two separate buildings for the operators to dorm in.

Finally, Seamus accepted his fate with a low wheeze of a sigh. No need to fight nature, he was sure he could go right back to normal after those few weeks. He stood up from the examination table with a grunt and cringed when a surge of pain shot up his chest. Had Mike not been there, he definitely would have fallen to the ground and aggravated his ribs further. Mike frowned,

"No support whatsoever?"

"Putting braces would only hinder his recovery by limiting his breathing further," she informed, walking over to the trashcan next to the door, her foot pressing on the piston to lift the lid up, to which she threw the gloves in the bin and made her way back to the sink, "Which can and will lead him to developing Bronchitis or Pneumonia. We don't want that to happen." She said flatly, drying her hands on some paper towels, to which she threw them in the bin once she was done.

"Now, you four need to leave and bring Cowden back to his bed so he can begin resting." James almost instantly took a step back in a bail from the responsibility. Of course he didn't want to be burdened with taking care of a 6'3 Scotsman. Mark now stood next to his teammate and slung his arm around his shoulder, offering Seamus extra support. Never mind that the breacher was in literal agony. Andrea watched them as they all left to go take care of the Scotsman, a sigh leaving once James closed the door. Good. Peace and quiet for hopefully longer than before so she could focus on her work. That she had to do back in her office.

Not as bad as she expected her day to go, honestly.

The Romanian quickly left the examination room, a hand rubbing at her aching hip. If only the medicine Gustave gave her actually worked properly, then she wouldn't be so slow and considered a speed level one. Then again, she did also wear a lot of gear so it was only fair she was slow on the field.

Her steps were quick to get her to her office, to which she grasped the doorknob and turned it to allow herself in. Alright, the smell of drugs was more faint now but still noticeable. Oh well, the only thing she could get in trouble for was smoking in her office. Nothing she should actually worry about. Walking over to behind her desk, she pulled her chair back and sat down on it with a huff, pulling out her phone and tossing it on the wooden desk, next to an empty coffee mug and some newspaper. Yes, she still read the newspaper. Leaning back in the chair for a moment to take a deep breath, Andrea sat back up with her back straight and muscles aching. Moving herself and the chair forwards, she pulled out a few papers from the drawer built next to the desk and began reading through them. Now to see who was in need of a quick checkup and who had already been covered by Gustave. Might as well text him to see if he had the list of those he was covering and those that had already been taken care of by the other on base medics. Grabbing her phone and unlocking it, Andrea selected the French man's number and texted him,

**.: I'm looking at the files for my building and I need to know who hasn't been covered yet. Let me know when you're available.:.**

With that, she put the phone on vibrate and slid it back to its previous spot, setting the files aside to take care of reports. There wasn't an awful lot she could do as a medic and God knows her hip was not going to let her move much for the next hours or so before she would need to get some food and maybe get a cup of coffee to skip sleep. Andrea read through the words quickly, setting aside those she deemed to be priority- such as health updates on the ones that had been on her team or recently came back from situations. Speaking of situations, Maxim and his team were supposed to be back sometime tomorrow and she had heard that they all had some sort of wound that needed to be patched up more carefully.

As she kept herself focused on the papers in front of her, half of her mind drifted off into her thoughts once more- this time all related to her schedule for tomorrow. Alright, so, the helicopter would arrive at around ten in the morning, an hour after breakfast was done. Then, she thought, she would need to call over Maxim and his team so she could give them a look over and patch any wounds that wouldn't be too threatening. If there was an emergency to be taken care of, then she would do so to the best of her ability and limited tools. Has she mentioned how much she hated being in this building? Well, now she has.

The medic set down the papers and checked her phone for a reply- nothing. He was probably busy or forgot to turn his phone off of silent. Maybe he was fucking his wife- who knew. Andrea couldn't care less about what he was doing so long as it was related to paperwork- the thing she despised with all of her heart. The thing she was doing right now.

Had she always been doomed to suffer in a chair, writing all day and dealing with morons?

The operator frowned and shook her head with a sigh, turning her gaze to the radio next to her. It was old, out of date and didn't work that well- but it had been her father's old radio and she'd be damned if she ever got rid of it. Pressing a button at the side to turn it on, she fiddled around with the antennas for a moment before rotating the widget to try and find a channel. Soon enough, she landed on a news station. Eh, better than nothing.

With some background noise active, Andrea grabbed the ashtray at the edge of the desk and brought it closer to her, reaching in her back pockets to grab a lighter and a box of cigarettes. Once the box was open, she bounced it a little to get the butt of a cigar poke out, to which she promptly grabbed and placed in between her lips while she closed the cigar box and put it back in her pocket. Now grabbing the lighter, her experience allowed her to almost instantly ignite the tobacco, setting the lighter aside after she had taken a puff to get it started.

Oh, that felt good. The rush of smoke leaving her lungs through her nose, making her feel alive even though she very well knew that she was slowly killing herself. There. Now that she was ready, she might as well work on these reports to get them over with as quickly as possible. She leaned forwards, taking a pencil in hand to start her work, while listening to the radio and also smoking- talk about multitasking.

Caught up in her thoughts and demise, Andrea hadn't even noticed the fact that almost two hours had gone by and that she was currently missing lunch. Huh. No wonder her stomach growled once in a while.

Mark, on the other hand, had noticed the Romanian's absence from the mess hall and had made sure to get both himself and her something to eat. Looks like the SAS needed to be skipped today so the medic wouldn't skip a meal and end up more of a bitch than usual. Not that he would actively call her a bitch, but everyone thought it and he had to admit, Andrea was a bitch sometimes. Balancing the tray with both plates in his hand, Mark rapped his knuckles on the door, knocking in order to ask a wordless question. No more than second later, an oh so familiar voice rang out,

"Come in." Ah, so she was allowing people to walk in after the confrontation she had with Mike earlier. Good to know. The Brit didn't miss a second either, entering the office (now devoid of weed, but filled with a smokey smell) only to find the Romanian in the process of smoking a cigarette. Wasn't she supposed to be the health nut here? At least the window was open wide. Mark scrunched his nose yet joined her at her desk, moving one of the chairs to be diagonal of her, to which he sat down after placing the tray on a free spot on the desk.

Andrea, getting the cue, worked quickly to clear up her desk space. By that I mean she just moved everything to the side and let a few things fall. Oh well, she would pick them up later.

"Thank you, Chandar." She hummed, almost feeling a smile tug at the corners of her mouth. But it would take a hell of a lot more to get her to smile, that she would make sure of. The Brit only offered her a friendly smile and took his own plate of food. Nothing too fancy, he had what was usually served on this day; a healthy amount of everything that was good. Not restaurant quality, but it was better than military food. Poor people had to eat from bags when they were deployed. No doubt Andrea had already done that before.

With the two once again plunging into silence in order to eat, Mark listened closely to the radio on her desk. It was somewhat old, it would static every once in a while and would stutter if the antennas moved even a smallest bit. He wondered why the Romanian didn't want to replace it with something more modern, that worked better. Plus, he couldn't understand the language being spoken- though he assumed it to be Romanian. Maybe a news channel of some sorts, she seemed like the type of person to listen to that instead of music.

"Is Baker calm now?" The sudden question took him by surprise, as he had been about to take a bite. Lowering the fork and closing his mouth, the man began to gesture with his hands once more,

_'A little more than before now that Seamus ate and went to bed.'_ Good, that was good. Maybe he would be easier to deal with tomorrow morning, when Maxim was supposed to come back. Andrea nodded at the information and took another bite of the food, her brows furrowed. Just how much could she think about bad things in a day? Even when she had been stranded in Afghanistan with her shredded hip bone poking out of her flesh she hadn't been able to think as much as she was now. Eugh. Just thinking about that day made her scar ache even worse. Damn chronic pain and damn her memory for triggering phantom pains too. Now all of her scars hurt like the devil.

Soft tapping on the desk caught her attention- Mark was signing to her.

_'How are your wounds?'_ He paused to allow her to answer. The woman glanced at him and then at her bandaged shoulder which had been covered by the white coat for some time now.

"There's just an ache left. I'll be back to normal by the beginning of next week." While maybe the bullet wound wouldn't have completely healed, it was deemed safe enough to go back to usual training. Plus, it's not like she always followed the instructions she would give to patients. Talk about hypocrisy.

Mark frowned and turned his brown eyes over to his food, awkwardly going back to working on finishing his plate. Well. This had just gone awkward rather fast. The curse of being as antisocial as he was. Woe was him.

Soft vibrating caught his distracted self, his attention locking onto Andrea's phone; which she had picked up and opened. Andrea raised her brows; huh, Gustave had finally replied.

**.:The GIGN, GSG-9 and CBRN have been covered by me. Mégane and Jackson are taking care of the recruits and you have the SAS, Spetsnaz, FBI and the newest Australian recruits.:.**

**.:Alright, I'll see to it. When do the SASR get here?:.**

**.:In a month from now.:.**

**.:Understood. Thank you, doctor Kateb.:.**

**.:Pas de problème.:.** Andrea set her phone back down after the last text, closing it and now fully focusing on the food in front of her and the company besides her. She held back the urge to sigh. So many things to think about, so little time to ensure they were done.

This was going to be a tough month, she was sure about that. Not only that, it was her turn to count the supplies at the end of the week and that meant an extra hour to her shift if everything went smoothly.

With time passing by quickly and lunch being over, Mark supposed he would take his leave now that Andrea seemed to be focusing more on her work than him. Typical. Saying no other words, the Brit grabbed both empty plates and stood up, walking over to the door. Before he left, he sent one last glance over his shoulder, brows furrowed in concern. All he saw was the woman wasting her short life at the desk.

When would she see past her mistakes?

A click of the door signaled his departure.

Long after she had begun her work, Andrea glanced up at the clock over the door. Hm. She supposed she could take a break. The woman sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing the back of her aching neck. Oh, she really needed a better chair. Maybe one that didn't feel stiff despite being made of leather. With a grunt, she leaned forwards and turned off the radio, picked up her phone and stood up, putting it in her back pocket. She resisted the urge to run a hand through her hair, in fright of disturbing it from the tight bun it sat in. The Romanian left her desk and walked over to door, her hand stopping just short of actually grabbing the doorknob. Her brows furrowed. And where would she go? Where could she be at peace from knowing that she had almost cost someone's life?

With a sigh, she opened the door and left, closing the door behind her and walking down the hall with the intent to leave the building to seek out the comfort of a close friend.

The outside wasn't much more peaceful either. The air cold, the sky gray and the surroundings humid, threatening for rain to start. Andrea's gaze left the sky and went back down to the asphalt road, sliding her hands in the pockets of her doctor's coat.

Luckily, the building was only a ten minute walk from hers, so she had gotten there in a matter of moments. She had also been left alone to her thoughts, left to lament in the knowledge of her recklessness.

After checking herself in, she rushed to the office of the one man who had been through hell and back with her.

Sergei. Her savior, really. The medic made her way up the stairs quickly, soon arriving to the floor his office resided in. There was an ache in her hip, annoying at best, frustrating at worst.

Finally, she stopped in front of her teammate's temporary office. She had gone around ten minutes of a walk to get here, the ache in her hip ever so present. As she stopped in front of the door, Andrea paused, her hand on the handle. What could Sergei do about her lament other than tell her that it hadn't been her fault when it very much was a lie? With a sigh, she twisted the handle and pushed open the door, running a hand through her messy hair.

Sergei looked up from his clipboard, startled that someone had walked in without an appointment. This was supposed to be his break, dammit.

"Andrea. You're back." He hummed, watching her carefully with his honey colored eyes as she trudged over to the couch and let herself drop on it, now taking up all of the space. Hm. She definitely wasn't airing too well. The woman hid her face in a pillow on the couch.

"You don't usually act like a child." He commented. A muffled moan was his reply. Sergei rose a brow, idly petting the cat on his lap with a hand.

"What's this about?" This time, Andrea lifted her head up,

"Take a wild fucking guess."

"We've talked about the language, Andrea." Said woman only grumbled and pressed her head back into the pillow. The ex-therapist leaned back against his chair and sighed deeply, bringing his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Though after a moment, his brows knotted in concern. Oh, who was he to be mad at Andrea?

"Dea, you know that not telling me what the problem is isn't a good idea." He spoke softly- never having been one to raise his voice out of anger. Not even when he had caught his ex-wife cheating on him with a lawyer. He was much too soft to show anger for more than a few moments.

Andrea sighed deeply and sat up, crossing her legs and looking down at the floor.

"There's nothing you could do to help me, Ralu. You and I both know that."

"That's what you told me back in Afghanistan. But look at where you are now, Andrea. Thinking that all things are impossible is simply not true." He paused, the hand petting his cat also coming to a halt, making the Maine Coon chirp and look up in confusion.

"You're too close minded for your own good, Christoff. Every small mistake you do, you act as if it was the worst thing in the world. When was the last time you've had a good night of rest?"

Andrea paused.

"As I thought. Andrea, I'm speaking as a friend, " Sergei paused, standing up from his chair once he set the cat on the floor. He walked to the woman and sat down next to her, setting a hand of his on her back.

"You have to forgive yourself if you want to live." His voice was soft, worried. He knew the extent of how she could get if she delved too deep in her regrets. Andrea looked down at her hands, her eyes trailing the scars from her deployment. It was as if she could never escape the never ending loop playing inside her. Sergei's grip on her shoulder tightened.

He couldn't let her lose another hip.

It took no further coaxing for the operator to suddenly stand up and leave the room, exit the building and make the walk back to her temporary abode.

-/—-

By the time it was night time, Andrea had already burned through all of her work and skipped supper.

Throwing the wrapper of the granola bar in the trashcan next to the door, she shrugged off her white coat and hung it on the coat hanger while opening the door, closing the lights before locking the door and walking off to the SAS dorms. It was early (in her standards) to be going to sleep, but so long as she went in before Mike did, she would escape a death glare and that was all that mattered.

Luckily for her, the dorms weren't too far from her office and allowed for her to arrive to her destination fairly quickly. Andrea ran a hand through her hair and wrapped a hand around the doorknob, twisting it in order to push open the door effortlessly.

Immediately, she was greeted with the loud snoring of none other than Seamus. Not to mention that the covers were halfway on the floor and that he hadn't touched the painkillers at all. Or even turned off the lamp. The medic sighed tiredly through her nose and walked over to the side of the man's bed, picking up the blankets and laying them down on him so she wouldn't have to stare at him half naked.

Not that she hadn't seen him naked before. Both sexually and professionally. Many would be surprised about the amount of people in Rainbow she had seen naked in order to do a medical exam.

Andrea shook those thoughts out of her head and looked back down at Seamus, inspecting him.

Once she made sure that he wouldn't kick off the blankets again, Andrea turned around and undid her belt, sliding it out of the loops with relative ease. Setting the leather belt aside on the nightstand, she reached up and pulled off her hair tie, allowing for her auburn red hair to fall loose on her shoulders. Tossing the tie away, the soldier walked over to the joint bathroom of the dorms and closed the door behind her. Man, she really needed a warm shower after a day like this.

Playing around with the shower for the right heat took some time, but eventually she found the perfect temperature and undressed, tossing all of her clothing into the nearby hamper and entering the shower, pulling the curtains to hide her naked form in case anyone came in unannounced.

Feeling every single water droplet drip down the crevasses of her scars felt weird, yet held a sense of familiarity to it.

She hated that.

Andrea tilted her head back and closed her eyes, relaxing within the steamy shower.

Around ten minutes or so, she turned off the water and pushed the curtain aside, stepping out and grabbing a towel to immediately wrap around herself. Taking in one last breath of the refreshing steam, Andrea exited the bathroom back into the shared bedroom, closing the light and door as she exited the room.

"Well aren't ye a sight for sore eyes." Hummed a thick accented voice, causing for her gaze to snap towards the source of the voice.

Ah, looks like Seamus had woken up. He must have heard her when she turned on the water from the shower.

"You should be resting, Cowden." She told him flatly, making her way over to her dresser to pick out some pajamas. Seamus merely whistled as he watched her pass by, mumbling curses while he sat up to get a better view of her (albeit covered) naked form. Ugh, men, is she right?

"Ah've done all me restin', lass." While not entirely true, he did get plenty of rest for the day and even if the pain he felt was absolutely agonizing, he could very well say that he had gone through worse in the past. Being an ex rugby player did come with its fair share of injuries, including past concussions. Andrea glanced over her shoulder with a blank face and a raised brow. She didn't believe him one bit. Turning back around so her back faced the breacher, she let go of the towel wrapped around her, letting it fall to her feet. Now, she was truly naked.

A wolf whistle was all she needed to hear to know that Seamus was enjoying the view. Such a sound made Andrea scoff and shake her head in an emotion he couldn't seem to detect.

"You're so immature."

"Cannae help it, lass."

"You've seen this all before. There's nothing to admire."

"There is if ye look hard 'nuff." Was everything sex related the only thing on the Scotsman's mind when it came to seeing her naked? She swore he gave her the same comment each time she would undress in front of him.

The Romanian put on her underwear and a shirt just the perfect size for her and turned back around, picking up the towel and throwing it to the other side of the room. Who cared if it was right next to the door? She was far too lazy to walk back into the bathroom.

Just as she was about to walk over to her bed, she felt a strong pair of hands grab her by the back of her shirt and pull her on top of their host. A small grunt escaped the soldier as she fell back against a body, barely having time to process it all before she was trapped on a bed, encased by a strong pair of arms with equally as strong man holding on to her.

"Cowden, you're only slowing down your recovery."

"Mmhm."

"Cowden. Let go."

"No." The denial was further enforced with a kiss to the crook of her neck.

"Seamus, I'm serious."

"So am I."

"You need your rest."

"Ye haven' slept in three days, Drea. Spoil an ol' soul like me jus' fer once?" Surprisingly, it was hard for her to resist Seamus when he used her own bad habits against herself. However, she was as stubborn as a mule; as the others would say.

"No. Let me go, Seamus." The arms around her didn't budge despite her hearing his somewhat labored breathing. He was hurting, understandably so. Dammit.

Fucking hell, why did she have to be with the one person who made her regret her actions more than anything? She'd thought that she could just walk in and sleep on Mark's bed for the while Seamus was healing. But no. Life didn't want to give her a break.

"Fucking- I said let me go before I try to struggle out of your arms." Her tone was becoming strict; a hint of desperation lacing itself in it.

The same tone she had used while talking to Eliza's suffering body. Seamus again only grunted in reply, his grip tightening. Still, she began gently trying to pry his arms off of her, to no avail.

"Kintsugi." His voice tore through the stiff silence, making the attacker in his arms freeze. "Fixin' pott'ry wit' gold. Could apply tae ye too, 'Dea. Always gettin' banged up, blaemin' yesel' an' only makin' your situation worse Eliza's stable, no?"

"Barely. Eliza almost died, Monika is out of field for the next week as you are, Emannuelle had to get a blood transfusion and you are–"

"Fine. I'm fine. Nuthin' more than a few broken bones." Andrea, finding that his grip had loosened, sat up with the use of her arms as support.

"Seamus, you're on fucking bed rest for the next six weeks! Those are vital bones– do you have any idea what could have happened if-" Again, the strong pair of arms pulled her back down on the bed effortlessly. This time, Seamus buried his face in the crook of her neck; the part that held all the scars from previous fights.

"Ye can't keep fightin' fights on yer own all the time. C'mon. Lae down for a moment an' stay wit me for the night. spoil a man some, why don't ye?" Andrea frowned and sighed, relaxing her muscles. Oh, to hell with everything.

"You're insufferable." She muttered under her breath, shifting around so she was facing his broad chest. Her only reply was the grip on her tightening protectively.

"Aye. Ye still lov' me though." He hummed, leaning down to place a soft, loving kiss to the woman's lips. He didn't mind the way the scars along her jawline sometimes cut through her otherwise soft lips, he never did. Yet Andrea continued to believe that her scars made him pity her.

Breaking off the kiss, Seamus placed his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes, his muscles loosening.

It wasn't long before the medic felt her eyelids grow heavy. No matter how much she tried to fight the drowsiness, they would simply droop back down for a few seconds before she forced them open again. Alas, she had never been good at fighting off sleep for longer than three days.

All it took was a simple kiss to the top of her head and she was out like a light, falling in a sleep deeper than any of her other slumbers before. Seamus too, soon joined her in her slumber.

Mark was startled, to say the least, when he walked in the dorms and found Seamus and Andrea cuddling on the same bed. He wasn't startled that the woman was in Seamus' arms, no, but rather that somehow she had been coaxed to even be near his bed at all. Shaking his head in amusement, the young adult went in for a short shower and came back out within five minutes, drying his hair with a spare towel before getting dressed in his usual pajamas.

It was late at night, no way was he going to stay awake any longer. The defender carefully squeezed himself on the shared bed on the other side of where Andrea lay, officially putting her in the middle of this cuddle sandwich. Sliding under the covers, Mark rolled over on his side to face the two sleeping people and wrapped an arm around the Romanian's waist, pulling himself closer. Hm, looks like Andrea forgot to turn off the lamp too. Reaching over, the Brit pulled on the short cord and laid back down once the room was engulfed in darkness, sighing deeply through his nose as his eyes closed.

The man leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck, keeping his face pressed up against her bare skin, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap and shampoo she had as a guilty pleasure.

The smell of cinnamon sure was strong.

Mark settled his head back on one of the two pillows of the bed, shifting back into his thought for the last time of the day.

Tomorrow was another day, it could be boring or it could be filled with the best or worst things to ever happen in the world. They could be deployed all three at the same time or maybe even die. He could return to base all alone with no lover to greet him ever again.

But worrying on such things took too much energy out of him, made him feel more exhausted than he already was. Sure, he could stay with Andrea all day long, but Seamus also needed to be taken care of.

Exhaling deeply through his nose once again, Mark furrowed his brows and shifted closer to the woman, his muscles tightening ever so slightly.

Maybe tomorrow he could finally get her to eat with the others in the mess hall instead of the office. At least she allowed for him to stay this time!

It was a slow step towards recovery, but it was one he was going to welcome.

The Brit opened his eyes upon feeling the person in his arms roll over to rest on her back. In the midst of the dark night, his tired eyes only managed to capture the shadow of her form lay still once more, aside from the slow rise and fall of her chest.

Finally, he closes his eyes for good and sauntered off to sleep for some peace in quiet.

As strange as his life may be, he would never exchange it for anything else.


End file.
